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Gerald could enjoy the freedom of having a smoke on his front lawn; so he did. Soon, the wheels of bureaucracy would turn, and the locals would be notified. The news reporters with their cameras and their lights would pick up on the scent. They couldn’t resist the stench of a convicted paedophile, daring to live in the community after completing his sentence. “People have a right to know, don’t they?” they’d say. “People need to know.”
Across the street, a boy and a girl tumbled into the front yard of their house and began to play with a football. Gerald was free from prison, but he wasn’t free from his desires. He drew hard on his smoke and started counting to a hundred, his eyes clenched shut. When he opened his eyes, the kids were still there.
The boy was about ten, with wild brown hair, a ratty Spiderman t-shirt, small shorts and bare feet. He kicked the ball from behind the rusted carcass of an old Ford Falcon towards his sister. The boy was so healthy: so full of life, so beautiful. Gerald cursed his thoughts, and wished he had the will to fight the evil pumping in his veins.
Gerald knew it was his own fault, this evil inside of him. His step-father had seen it in him, and had punished him for it. He had been seven, when the punishment started. He felt his face blush as he remembered; he was still so ashamed.
When he was twenty, Gerald had punished two younger boys. He had told them they were evil too, that they were naughty boys. He’d told them to keep their dirty little mouths shut; which they didn’t.
In prison, they tried and failed to drive the evil out of Gerald. The authorities organised therapy and rehabilitation. The other prisoners, possessed by the lesser evils that had compelled them to commit robbery, rape and murder, tried to purge the evil too. The evil remained a part of Gerald, and he knew it would always contaminate any good that grew within him.
Gerald took another cigarette from the packet, with trembling hands. He eventually lit it. He breathed the smoke out through his nose, still watching the kids across the street. He told himself that there was no harm in watching, but he knew it was a lie.
The girl kicked the ball clumsily away from her brother, over the front fence. The boy ran after it. Gerald watched his strong young legs as he ran.
A car turned into the street. Gerald snapped his eyes onto it. It was a late model Commodore: white, silent, and fast. Cops? Fear charged into his blood, and his muscles surged. Standing up, he looked around, assessing his escape routes. He glanced back at the driver. It was just a teenager: a young idiot, driving much too fast, and getting faster.
Gerald turned back to the kids. The boy was running hard, but the ball leapt high and lurched away from him with each bounce. It went onto the road.
Gerald looked again at the car. It wasn’t slowing. Gerald started to run across the road, driven by a desire to help the boy: to touch his life, to love and protect him.
The boy looked up, and stopped. His eyes opened wide as he looked into Gerald’s, and his mouth dropped open.
Smoke poured from the car’s wheels and billowed up behind it. The car dipped forwards heavily under the force of the brakes, but still rushed towards the boy in the street.
The boy’s sister stood in the yard, watching. A woman stood on the stairs of the house, gripping the handrail and screaming. Gerald ran. Two paces before he reached the boy, he dropped his shoulder and lunged.
***
The boy stood still, his football forgotten and his mind stuck. The man that had come from nowhere tackled him, like a rugby player. He felt the air in his lungs being pushed out through his mouth. It made a soft panting sound. He was lifted high into the air, flying backwards. He saw the man get folded over onto the bonnet of the big white car.
The boy landed hard in the gutter. He couldn’t breathe. He watched the man fall back onto the street. His head made a cracking, popping sort of sound as it bounced. The man didn’t move. The pool of blood around his head kept getting bigger. The boy thought the blood might reach him in the gutter, but it didn’t.
***
The boy’s mother held her son in her arms, stroking his hair, hugging him tightly and splashing him with tears. She blinked as she spoke to the policeman with the notebook. “I saw the whole thing,” she said. “He sacrificed himself to save my boy’s life. I’m going to call the papers, and Channel Nine. I want everyone to know. People have a right to know, don’t they? People need to know.”
Bernard S. Jansen is 32 years old, married, and has three sons. He lives in Emerald, Queensland, Australia. He works as an engineer at a local coal mine, and is active in his local church. His work has appeared in Full of Crow, and he writes a regular short story column for Shift Miner Magazine.
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22 Responses to “PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW • by Bernard S. Jansen”
Comments
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August 22nd, 2010 at 2:00 am
Very moving. Well done.
August 22nd, 2010 at 4:26 am
Very well done. Your story was completely captivating.
August 22nd, 2010 at 4:31 am
Wonderful.
August 22nd, 2010 at 5:10 am
From predator to hero. Beautiful.
August 22nd, 2010 at 5:41 am
“Sex offenders are people too” is a wry statement whispered with an edge of sarcasm among fellow workers in my state government office who have the unenviable task of overseeing the placement of persons like Gerald in our communities.
The story had me holding my breath with its surprisingly accurate thoughts within the mind of a pedophile, but my understanding of the psychology of the disease, albeit limited to what I’ve experienced at my job, left me questioning the veracity of Gerald’s sudden act of altruism.
As an optimist, and the author also appears to be one, I wish the story’s ending could be plausible and true. As a realist, I’m sorry to say, the ending comes off as pure fantasy.
The writing itself–very well done. This was a tough topic to write about because it pokes at dark and uncomfortable places inside a reader. A 3.5 from me.
August 22nd, 2010 at 5:45 am
We can always use a hero. Everyone needs one. Nice job.
August 22nd, 2010 at 6:49 am
I get what Linda G was saying in her comments but I believe people, even evil people, have a flash of hero in them.
August 22nd, 2010 at 6:52 am
“A flash of hero” indeed; nice pace and flow to the story from start to finish, vivid descriptions
August 22nd, 2010 at 7:57 am
What an interesting twist. Everbofy precieves things differently, no one ever really has the whole picture.
August 22nd, 2010 at 9:24 am
Excellent write Bernard.
Well done
August 22nd, 2010 at 10:43 am
To me this was a very touching story. It shows how even people we consider to be depraved can have goodness.
August 22nd, 2010 at 12:25 pm
For those who think of paedophiles as one-dimensional monsters, they will like this story for killing one. For those who have personally known such people and see all sides of humanity, this is a lovely, moving story.
August 22nd, 2010 at 2:41 pm
Very moving
August 22nd, 2010 at 4:46 pm
Thanks to everyone who has rate this story and commented so far. I sincerely appreciate all the comments. I may be an optimist, but I was expecting nothing less than derision for the concept of this story.
August 22nd, 2010 at 10:21 pm
A very well constructed piece. I was concerned where it was leading when I began reading, however it kept me intrigued enough to read on and I’m glad I did! Well done Bernard.
August 23rd, 2010 at 3:52 am
We’re all looking for redemption from our sins. Gerald got his opportunity to lay down his life. But was it enough to pardon his soul? Very well written, Bernard. I would love to hear what the reporters would say in their nightly commentaries about him.
August 23rd, 2010 at 10:09 am
Gerald’s alturism definitely did not ring true for me. Maybe it’s because I’m 63 and a skeptic. I’ve just seen too much. Making Gerald willing to give up his life for that boy is a stretch. The writer did not make Gerald’s act understandable to a rational reader. Having said that, I know when a story is well written and this story is very well written.
August 24th, 2010 at 12:20 am
When you read it through from beginning to end because it moves you along, and you can see the characters and events in your mind as you read it there is no need to analyse it – you just know it was good. Well done!
August 25th, 2010 at 3:23 pm
A neatly contrived act of redemption this brutal sacrifice
August 26th, 2010 at 8:47 pm
This story was disturbing until the change in direction midway. There was something implausible about the second half. Your story implies Gerald was able to see that the driver of the speeding car was a teenager and that he then had time to make the life saving sprint and tackle. My eyesight and reactions certainly are not that sharp. Was he sitting in a chair on the lawn near the curb metres away from the kids???
You pushed some buttons in this one and your writing and subject were let down by the improbability of the end.
August 30th, 2010 at 3:57 am
I like the debate about the improbability of the ending. Yet until that point we were drawn into the mix, driven to finish the story and complete its train of thought. God writing!
Sometimes its just better to think about a topic from the inside out rather than make judgments on what ‘might’ happen.
Well written and thanks for the debate!
August 30th, 2010 at 7:13 am
I wasn’t sure how this was going to end, and maybe the ending is a little implausible, but no matter – it was still a moving read. Thanks.